


hot chocolate and kraft macaroni

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Mulder, Scully, and Emily accidentally spend Thanksgiving together.





	hot chocolate and kraft macaroni

**Author's Note:**

> a semi-companion to green vials and flowers. this was totally unintentional, but it’s the only thanksgiving idea i had that grabbed hold of me yesterday and just wouldn’t let go.

Scully had invited him to San Diego. Multiple times, she'd made it clear: she  _ wanted  _ him to come to San Diego for Thanksgiving, and so did Emily (which had pled for him to come in a voice even louder than Scully's, tugging insistently at the tail of his shirt). She'd reminded him that he had stayed at Bill's house back when they first found Emily, so it wasn't like he wasn't used to it. But Mulder passing on going hadn't really had anything to do with Bill—although he supposes avoiding a fight with Scully's brother is an added bonus. He hasn't celebrated Thanksgiving in years, not since after Samantha was taken. The end of November is typically associated with that night, with tapping the phone and policemen's questions and his mother's tears. After his dad had left, he and his mother had made some sort of an unspoken pact: they don't celebrate. He'll give her a call, but he knows they'll both mutually stay home. 

(He feels some strange sort of guilt about not going, simply because if he'd want to spend this strange holiday he's avoided with anyone, it would be Scully and Emily. But he's well-versed in his tradition of nothing, and he definitely wants to avoid awkward moments with Scully's family if he can.)

Which is how he finds himself alone on Thanksgiving day, on the couch watching a movie and eating soup out of the can when the phone rings. Expecting it to be his mother, he picks it up and answers with a simple, “Hello?” rather than his usual, professional greeting. It's a holiday, it seems worth it. 

“Hey, Mulder, it's me,” Scully says on the other end. 

He sits up straighter, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, setting the soup down on the coffee table. “Scully, hey,” he says in surprise. “You guys haven't landed yet, have you?”

“No, our flight was just canceled,” she says, irritated. “There's a blizzard in the Midwest, apparently. I should have listened to my mom when she told us to fly in a few days early, but I didn't think I could get any more days off work.”

“That's awful, Scully, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. Em was a little apprehensive about going back to San Diego, anyway; I think she's pretty relieved.” She sighs a little on the other end. “Anyway, I was wondering if you'd mind coming to pick us up, if you're not busy. We took a cab to the airport.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, already on his feet. “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Mulder,” says Scully, her voice warm and grateful. There's a rattle in the other end, her voice soft and muffled—”Just a minute, sweetie”—and then after a beat, her voice clearer and amused: “Emily says hi.”

Mulder chuckles. “Hi back. Tell her if her mom says it's okay, I'll buy her a hot chocolate.”

\---

He meets them at Arrivals, sees them standing on the sidewalk, their bright heads under the lights. Emily, newly four, is rocking back and forth on her heels and swinging Scully's hand back and forth, stir-crazy. When she sees Mulder pulling up, she waves frantically. Mulder waves back, amused. When he gets out of the car, he tousles Emily's hair and she bursts into giggles, leans down to kiss Scully's cheek.

He helps them load their luggage in the back of the car while Scully straps Emily into the car seat. (He'd bought it about two months after Emily moved to DC, when it was clear it was a necessary feature in his car.) Scully climbs in the driver's seat beside him and mouths,  _ Thank you, _ and he offers her a smile. In the backseat, Emily squeezes her bear close. (The bear he bought her when she was in the hospital. She carries it everywhere, Scully reports. He's honored.) “You disappointed about San Diego, Em?” he asks as he pulls away from the curb. 

Her forehead scrunches up in thought before she shakes her head. “Uh-uh. Dana says that we can do Thanksgiving here 'stead of there. And that everyone will come see us for Christmas.”

“That's right,” Scully says from the front seat. “We can have lots of fun on our own, anyways.”

Emily nods. “Did'ja call your mom?” she asks, addressing Mulder. 

Mulder grins at that. Emily and his mom have never met, of course, but he showed her pictures the last time he went up there. Since then, she's asked questions about “your partner's daughter.” “Nah, I'm gonna call her later, wish her a happy Thanksgiving,” he says. 

Emily nods again, wiggling her loose tooth with her tongue. “Dana says we can have mac and cheese for dinner,” she says. She bounces the bear on her knee the way he's seen Scully bounce her before. “And rolls, cause I like rolls. They're better than turkey. You should come eat, too.” 

Scully turns in her seat to face her daughter. “Sweetie, we don't want to intrude on Mulder. Remember, he doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving?” 

“It's not an intrusion,” Mulder says quickly, because it isn't. He smiles at Emily in the rearview mirror. “I'd love to eat with you guys.”

Emily grins back, ducking her head in shy embarrassment. In the passenger seat, Scully turns back to face him. “Mulder, you don't have to…” she says softly, sympathetically. 

“Nah, I want to.” He shrugs. “I wouldn't want to miss out on Dana Scully's Famous Kraft.” She chuckles; Emily's nose scrunches in confusion. “Unless you wanted it to just be the two of you…” he adds in an equally soft, hesitant voice. 

When she'd first adopted Emily, when he'd been a witness for her, he had sworn he wouldn't make it about him. That it wouldn't be all about their mutual quest, or his need to be her partner. That he wouldn't intrude on this, Scully's life with her daughter, no matter how much he wanted to. He expected to lose her, and he'd come to terms with that as best he could, but he was beyond astonished when it didn't happen. 

Her face shifts, and she shakes her head immediately. “No, no. I'd love for you to be there,” she says vehemently. “We both would.”

Emily nods. And then she makes the bear nod.

A sort of giddiness fills Mulder, the kind that fills him every time Scully pulls him past the bounds of work and polite friendship or partnership into her personal life. “I'll be there,” he promises, his voice husky with emotion. He pulls off the highway and buys them both hot chocolate with extra whipped cream on the way to Georgetown. 

\---

Scully's kitchen is adorned by Emily's art: hand-shaped turkeys, scribbly pictures and fingerpaintings. And pictures of Emily herself: Emily in her preschool class, smiling shyly at the camera, Emily at the park on the swings, Emily at her grandmother's sitting in her lap, Emily at her fourth birthday. Emily and Scully on Halloween, Emily in costume on Scully's lap, sitting on the front steps of the apartment building. Mulder had taken that one himself, just before they took her trick-or-treating. 

Emily watches cartoons in the living room, her blanket and her bear in her lap, sucking her thumb. Mulder and Scully work in the kitchen, boiling water and noodles, putting rolls and a small chicken and a frozen pie in the oven. Scully tears lettuce and chops tomatoes for a salad. 

The last Thanksgiving Mulder celebrated was in 1973. His mother and father were quiet; they'd been fighting. They had dinner at the Galbrands's house because his mom didn't feel like cooking. He and Samantha had made faces at each other across the table, and Samantha had constructed a mashed potato mountain with a cranberry moat and a green bean flag. Their mom hadn't even said to stop playing with her food. The memory is darkened now, by what Mulder knows, and it's strange to be celebrating it again. But it helps to have Scully there with him, mixing cheese into noodles, chopping vegetables, absently bumping into him, smiling a little every time they hear Emily laugh from the other room. 

\---

Emily, her plate containing a mound of mac and cheese and a tiny firewood-style pile of carrots that she wrinkles her nose at, says as they sit down to dinner, “Miss Hannah says you're 'pposed to say what you're thankful for before Thanksgiving.” She nudges her tooth with her tongue, bashful.

“Okay,” Scully says, a little surprised, but recovering quickly. “We can do that.”

Emily wiggles her tooth thoughtfully, reaches for her glass of milk and takes a sip. “I'm not thankful Mommy and Daddy are gone,” she whispers, and instinctive guilt rises in Mulder's throat. Scully looks down at her plate. Emily pokes at her macaroni with the tine of her fork, swallows. “But I'm thankful for my bear, and my coloring books, and  _ Tom and Jerry,  _ and my picture books. And I'm thankful for Mulder and Dana.” She looks up shyly. “Mulder's really nice, and Dana's a good second mommy. Really good.” 

Scully makes a startled, grateful sound and swipes a hand under her eyes before looking up. “Oh, I'm thankful for you, too, sweetie,” she says softly, reaching across the table and taking Emily's little hand. “So, so thankful.”

“And for Mulder?” Emily asks. 

“And for Mulder,” Scully says, immediately and unhesitatingly. She squeezes Emily's hand before reaching over to take cover Mulder's with hers. “I'm thankful for the both of you.”

There's a lump in Mulder's throat, and it's not from guilt. He seizes Scully's hand and holds it tight. 

“Mulder?” Emily prods, serious as ever. “What are you thankful for?”

He laughs, a little unsteadily. “I’m, uh… I'm thankful that Dana made Kraft mac and cheese… that, uh, I still get to work with Dana at work, even if the work is awful… for my fish, and my super turning on the heat finally… and for you two.” He swallows uncertainly, smiles. “I'm thankful I'm here with you.”

\---

After dinner, they retreat to the living room to watch  _ A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.  _ Emily changes into pajamas at Scully's behest, retrieves her blanket and bear and climbs onto Scully's lap. “I like Snoopy,” she says, snuggling up to Scully's shoulder. 

“Me, too,” says Scully, squeezing her close and kissing the top of her head. 

She's sitting close to Mulder, her shoulder bumping against his side. He loops an arm over the back of the couch like a nervous teenager. “I'm a Woodstock man, myself,” he says. 

Emily giggles. Scully covers her more completely with the blanket, shifts a little bit until her arm is touching his side. Mulder swallows, lets his arm drop to her shoulders.

By the time the movie ends, Emily is mostly asleep in Scully's arms, her thumb in her mouth. Scully is sitting almost halfway against Mulder, her cheek against his shoulder, his arm more securely around her. “I should probably take her to bed,” Scully says, but she doesn't move. 

“It's a holiday. She'll be okay.” Mulder reaches for the blanket over the back of the couch and covers Scully up with it. She murmurs a thanks, adjusting it over Emily. Mulder drapes his arm back over her, gingerly. “Not to sound smug,” he says lightly, “but I am very glad that your flight got cancelled, Scully.”

“Hmm.” Scully lifts her chin to look up at him. “So this wasn't a bad Thanksgiving?”

“Definitely not.  _ Absolutely _ not.” He rests his head against the couch cushion.

Emily snuffles, her head lolling against his thigh. Scully grabs his hand and pulls his arm tighter around her. “I'm glad our flight got cancelled, too,” she says softly, her fingers tangled with his over Emily's ribs. “We both were.”

Mulder squeezes her hand, emotional and trying like hell not to show it. He thinks that this, a non-traditional Thanksgiving with his best friend and her daughter, may be the best Thanksgiving he's ever had.

She tips her head up to meet his eyes, hers soft. “You should stay,” she says, in that serious tone she and Emily share. “If you want to… you should stay.”

And so he does.


End file.
